


Not Peace, Only Ceasefire

by Makkoska



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, One-Shot, Senju Clan - Freeform, Some angst, Uchiha Clan - Freeform, Yaoi, old konoha, some blood and torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 07:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makkoska/pseuds/Makkoska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madara’s last weeks spent in Konoha, before his fatal decision to cut ties with Hashirama Senju and his clan. Yaoi, Hashirama/Madara</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Peace, Only Ceasefire

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the same universe as my previous story, Path to Darkness, but can be read as a stand-alone. 
> 
> Warnings: Mostly for yaoi, a bit of blood and torture, angst. Also for unbetad text.

  
The village was quiet and calm, as if on a lazy summer afternoon when no one seems to have anything urgent to do. The inhabitants enjoyed the peace that miraculously held out in these last few years. Life of course was still busy – the constructions were on-going, new people came to join Konoha, this unwavering safe island on the thunderous ocean of wars, blood and pain.  
  
Very few realized that the silence was tense, not calm. Most didn’t see, didn’t _want to_ see that the road lying ahead promised to be just as hard and painful as the past behind them. Dark clouds were gathering, the storm was about to strike, but everybody in Hidden Leaf chose to pretend they lived under constant sunshine.  
  
Madara despised them with passion. The fools, who couldn’t tell what was coming next and the cowards who, despite having a suspicion, rather lied to themselves. In the world of shinobi peace could never be anything more than an illusion. The most they could call this period was ceasefire. A temporary armistice. Still, new ninjas came to join, and even whole clans, dazed by the magnetic aura of the newly appointed Hokage, like moths by fire.  
  
He’d to admit that the fire ablaze in the older Senju brother bewitched even him for a short time. It was easy to get under his spell, drawn deep into his circle of light where he no longer saw the darkness closing in around him. The temptation to reach out and let him be warmed by the flame of the other was almost irresistible. If not for his instinctive mistrust of all people and his pride which didn’t allow him to depend on someone so, he probably wouldn’t have realized that this fire was no larger than a candle flame. It didn’t provide real light or warmth.  
  
Konoha was built upon a lie, but nobody, not even his own people wanted to realize that. Ninjas didn’t exist without battles. To have so many of them on this relatively small territory could only result in further fights. But to speak about this was a taboo. If he still brought it up, everyone looked at him like he lost his mind. Madara longed to grab these idiots by the scruff and shake them until the treacherous veil of peace dissolved from before their eyes.  
  
There was only one shinobi who understood how he felt, and that was the Hokage himself but that was almost worse than nothing. Senju was not only a strong warrior but a wise leader just as much, who knew his people – and his enemies - well. But, unlike the head of the Uchiha Clan, he was an idealist. He honestly believed that standing together, keeping up the forced order was beneficial to everyone, even if it worked only temporary.  
  
“I know what you think, Madara-san,” he said to him “but we all need these calm years, even if it can’t last forever. As more and more people join Hidden Leaf, we’re getting stronger and stronger – so we’ll have less who’d wish to fight us.”  
  
“They might be fewer in number, but that’ll just leave the stronger ones conspiring against us. The weak won’t dare to oppose our force, not face-to-face at least. But you’ll need to prepare for assassins or your foes allying with each other… and for internal conflicts of course. The fools, who believe in the false peace now and let their attention wane, will be the first victims. Than those who were so awed by the greatness of _Hokage-sama_ will turn against you. You’ll see – the louder someone praised you, the more they’ll blame you, when everything this bloody village promised turns out to be a lie.”  
  
The corners of Hashirama’s mouth turned upwards. There was nothing mocking or bitter in the gesture. If anything, he appeared amused, but it still infuriated the Uchiha. Mostly because despite seeing the other man’s faults clearly, despite knowing with grim certainty that the whole misguided alliance between their clans was bound to end in bloodshed, he still found that smile seductive. Sometimes, when he let his guard down, downright irresistible. The charm of the Senju was undeniable. After all, he could daze the whole Uchiha clan and even Madara himself - for a short while at least. He liked to think he was now free of his spell.  
  
He watched from under eyebrows drawn together in anger as the other man stood up and walked to the window. He wondered what he found so interesting in the view. The constructions were finished around the Hokage’s residence, though admittedly the far distance was visible from here, the office being the highest point in the village so far. Maybe he was just deep in thought or wanted to avoid Madara’s dark gaze. Though Senju was not someone who was afraid of conflicts. He’d never run away from them or tried to pretend they didn’t exist. This was one of his traits which made Madara unable to hate him – no matter how easier everything would be then.  
  
Silent as a cat he also got up from his chair and stepped behind the taller man. He knew that Hashirama felt his presence, but he didn’t turn to face him. The corners of his thin lips curved into a smile as well, though it held no mirth at all. He slid his hand on the broad back, just above the heart, where the vital organ was only protected by some flesh, muscle and bone. The Senju glanced at him sideways. He could tell from the way those dark brown eyes narrowed that he understood - Madara meant the gesture as a threat, not as a sign of affection.  
  
“You’ve become careless,” the Uchiha made sure to keep his voice even, emotionless, though he felt fury inside.  As the leader of the joined clans, as the head of this ridiculous village, Hashirama should have been more vigilant than ever. “You could be just a dead body at my feet if I’d wish so.”  
  
The Hokage turned to face him and he let his hand fall down from his back. There was no anxiety in the other’s deep eyes as he calmly returned his gaze. No one else had ever looked at him like that – openly, knowingly, with understanding… as an equal, who had nothing to fear. As always he found it annoying, yet exciting. He wanted to claw out those eyes for that look as much as he wanted to get lost in them for ever.  
  
“Careless? It wasn’t my enemy standing behind my back, right, Madara-san?”  
  
“Are you lying to me know _Hokage-sama_ , or to yourself?” he snorted. “Whichever, you’re doing a poor job of it.”  
  
That maddening smile again. Ever since the taller man won the title at his expense, the leader of the Uchiha clan made a point of calling him on it most of the time, mockingly emphasizing the honorific. It seemed to amuse the other, as if it was a joke only the two of them knew about. Madara thought that one, maybe not far away day, he’d freeze this smile on the other’s face. _We’ll see if your good mood holds when you’re choking on your own blood, Senju._  
  
“Then I’ll say that I know you well enough to be confident it won’t be like _this_ when you attack me. I’d be a fool not to be cautious of you, but stabbing me in the back is not your style.”  
  
“Once I’ll become so angry at your stupidity that I won’t hold back. Afterwards I’ll tell everyone how I defeated you in an honest battle. After all, who’d dare to contradict me?”  
  
Hashirama wasn’t smiling any longer. Sadness darkened his eyes and Madara had to force himself to keep looking at him and not to turn his glance away.  
  
“Maybe our fate is indeed to end each other’s life,” his voice was deep and solemn.  “But I refuse to wait for it with bated breath, afraid of the future. While the peace lasts between us, I’m determined to enjoy it to its fullest, my dear.”  
  
Madara didn’t pull away when the taller man dipped his head down to kiss him. Hashirama’s calloused palm radiated warmth and calm when he slid it under his hair to clasp his nape and pull him closer. Involuntarily he felt his muscles relax, the tension ebbing away at the closeness, although he knew he couldn’t believe this unsaid promise. When, after long seconds their lips parted, he stepped back, away from the other’s touch.  
  
“There’s never been peace between us, Hashirama-san. Only ceasefire.”

 

/*/*/*/

  
Outwardly Madara was calm, sitting almost motionless on the uncomfortable stool, while he wanted nothing more than to spring up and topple the table over to the others. In theory, the leading clans were having a session on equal basis. Still for some reason while the Uchihas were only represented by him, the Senjus had three persons in the room.  
  
There was Hashirama – no issues with that. The presence of his brother was something Madara tolerated much less. The reddish, narrow eyes were, as usual, watching him with suspicion. But what infuriated him was the wife of the Hokage, sitting next to his husband. Madara couldn’t stand the woman and didn’t comprehend what she had to do with the leadership of the village. Her marriage alone didn’t grant her the rights to have a say in the decision making – that was the job of the strong and powerful, not some stupid girl from a foreign land. The older Senju brother had always been too lenient.  Was she his woman, Madara would have made her learn her place.  
  
Though in all honestly he didn’t plan to get married. The elders of the clan implied that it was his responsibility to make sure the bloodline is carried on, but he never had the time to deal with such trivial things.  Ever since he could hold a kunai, he’d always been busy with battles. Rest of his time was occupied by his own clan, by the Senjus. By Hashirama.  
  
Now that Konoha was founded and growing maybe he could have tried to make time for other things as well, but he just couldn’t bring himself to… Marry a woman and father children – that was only one step away from growing rice and telling coloured stories of the grand, heroic past to the neighbour over the fence. There was nothing more pitiful than a ninja who put down his weapon.  
  
Close family only held a man back when it came to a war again. Furthermore, as the leader of his clan he was responsible for all from his blood. They were the family he fought for and for whom he was even willing to sign ceasefire. It wasn’t right for someone like him to waste his time on closer relatives.  
  
He told Hashirama so, when his red-haired fiancée came to the village but he couldn’t talk him out of the marriage. He’d been so angry when the Senju put his hand on his shoulder and said to him in a deep voice, what would have been soothing under different circumstances, that this arrangement didn’t change anything between _them._  Hah, as if he cared. That the other maybe wouldn’t be the strong warrior he used to be, the only one who ever managed to best him, was more painful than the possibility of losing a lover.  
  
He’d almost managed to convince himself it was the truth. Still he gritted his teeth any time he had to be in the same room with the woman.  
  
He was curious what the Uzumaki bitch would say, if at the end of this ridiculous session he’d step up to his man, grab his long hair to pull his head back and kiss him deeply, as he did so many times when it was only the two of them.  
  
It’d be so worth it, to see her face going white with shock and for the astonishment in Tobirama’s eyes as well. One day he might just do it, not because he was jealous or anything like that, but because he _could._  
  
But not today. When the meeting was over he quickly stood up and stormed out of the room, pretending that he didn’t notice how the Hokage tried to catch his eyes. He fumed silently for hours afterwards. Senju Hashirama. He was really fed up with the way he couldn’t get him out of his mind.

 

/*/*/*/

 

The air was thick in room, heavy with the smell of sweat and other body fluids. Hashirama lay on his back on the narrow futon with one arm behind his head, his other drawing lazy circles below the thin blanket on his stomach.  He looked unwaveringly calm and sated as he watched Madara pace back and forth in fury.  
  
The Uchiha, naked just when he’d been when he sprang up from the mattress after hearing the annoying and worrying news, shared by his lover after the… _intercourse_ , stopped now and then to send him a murderous glare. He also kept raking his fingers through his hair, trying to ease his tension a bit with the gesture, making his thick, black locks even more unruly. Of all the unfair decisions the Senjus made, this was really over the top. Was there no limit of them trying to push the Uchihas out of the leadership of the village…?  
  
“My dear,” the taller shinobi broke the silence at last. “I didn’t want to upset you with this. Why don’t you come back and…”  
  
“Idiots!” the slim man interrupted him with a hiss. “My clan is full of idiots, the inhabitants of Konoha are all idiots, but you’re the biggest idiot of all _Hokage-sama_ , if you truly believe the innocence of your brother’s proposal! Even the blind could see – anyone could see, if they’d just open their eyes – that this decision will weaken the Uchihas. I’ve kept saying, straight from the beginning that this whole alliance is the worst of ideas. But with that effect I could have clanged a bell and shouted _fire_ next to a deaf man. And you,” he pointed his finger at the other, not even stopping his rant to draw breath, “if you maintain this won’t harm my clan, you’re better fit as the clown of the village than its leader!”  
  
Hashirama sat up. The cover slipped off from him, exposing his tanned, muscled chest and thighs, but for once Madara didn’t let himself be deterred by the sight from his rightful fury. He saw in the other’s eyes that now he was aggravated as well. Still he held his anger in check. _The master of self-control,_ he thought, sneering. He never bothered to hide if he was irritated by something.  
  
Rules, regulations, laws – he could see, clear as daylight that most was made to curb the power of the Uchihas. Of course Tobirama Senju, the bloody hypocrite, kept repeating that his only aim was to solidify the fragile order. Horribly enough, even his own clan believed the albino. They refused to see the truth, the grim end where all this would lead.  
  
A herd of sheep, shepherd to slaughter that’s what they were. They were even bleating happily, as they could graze on the way there. _Pathetic_. Were they not his own blood, he’d let them meet the fate they deserved. Like this, he fought for their rights, though he never received any thanks for it.  
  
“Madara-san,” Hashirama’s voice was serious, like the way it used to be when they negotiated the ceasefire. He was sitting on Madara’s own futon, in his own house, naked save for the thin blanket that was not really covering anything any longer and still he was able to radiate authority. Madara hated, just as much as he desired, him for this. “We signed the peace as equals. Neither I, nor my brother intends to shorten you of your rights. You could show some trust…”  
  
“You blind fool!” Madara cried. He was all but shaking with fury. He could barely resist attacking the other man. The only thing holding him back was knowing that to the sound of fight his clan members would surely burst in. He didn’t want anyone to find them naked in this steamy room, where so many things told a tale about what they’d been doing. Like that they couldn’t turn a blind eye on their secret liaison any longer, lasting since the negotiations for peace – no, not peace, but ceasefire – started, and he didn’t want that. He couldn’t afford that.  
  
Hashirama’s usually calm, dark eyes were hard with anger. He stood up, graceful and dominant, and took a threatening step towards his black haired lover. He had the pose of a great warrior, but it wasn’t a moment to admire that. His chakra thickened around him, vibrating in the room, making all of the hair on the Uchiha’s back stand up.  For an endless moment they stared at each other.  
  
He was undeniably enthralling, angry like this, but Madara felt no fear. There was no telling how a fight would end between them, both knew it very well. Part of him longed to clash with this man again. As he knew – and was sure Senju knew it as well – they would again someday. But this time or place was not suitable for it.  
  
Hashirama took a deep breath, and the chakra whirling around him calmed down, easing the thick tension between them.  
  
“Whatever your opinion on me or my brother may be Madara-san, I expect you to address me with respect.”  
  
“As my superior?” he snarled with contempt, crossing his arms in front of his chest.  
  
“As your equal.”  
  
Madara just snorted disdainfully at that and shoved the taller man on his chest. The movement was purposefully slow and lacked real force, but Senju didn’t even try to avoid it. Still, when he tried to pull his hand back, he grabbed his wrist and dragged him close.  
  
Hashirama sat back to the futon and tugged on his arm until Madara gave in and straddled his thighs. The kiss they shared was more composed of sharp teeth than warm press of lips. The Uchiha suspected the other thought this could be a good outlet for their ire. He didn’t mind – how could he – though both of them knew this wouldn’t solve the quarrels that were getting more heated with each day.  He felt a pang of sadness at the thought, but he refused to be taken over by the emotion.  
  
Rather, he concentrated on the pleasure Hashirama’s mouth and clever fingers were causing. He was soon swept away with the feeling of lust and longing for more. Before long they were both hard again, for the second time that night. Rising up on his knees, Madara pressed his erection against the other’s flat stomach and raked his fingers down his back. He was trembling slightly, he craved so much for the damn Senju. The power the other radiated, the tense air between them and the undeniable desire they shared always affected him so.  
  
Thanks to their previous lovemaking his channel was still loose and slick enough. Hashirama penetrated him easily and almost painlessly. He didn’t let the taller shinobi turn their position, rather he pushed him back on the bed and rode him.  
  
He loved when it was like this – with him taken, yet in control… He loved how the other’s strong, calloused palms gripped his bony hips and urged him to move faster, to take him in deeper. He loved how the lids closed halfway over deep, dark brown eyes, and how he looked at him from under thick lashes, his gaze smouldering with want and affection… He loved so many things about this man, who’d always remain his worst enemy, no matter what else he claimed. It made him ache him deep inside, not with the sweet burn of Hashirama’s manhood thrusting into him, but with a gnawing, unbearable pain that was like a sword shoved through his guts.  
  
He shook his head in a vain attempt to get rid of this sensation and bit his lover’s hand when he reached up to smooth the unruly locks out of his face. He pushed down harder, impaling himself completely on the other’s thick length and increased the tempo. Sex, that’s all it was about. There was nothing more to it, there couldn’t be. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe otherwise.  
  
Soon the room became even sweatier and the nearby Uchihas, once again, had to play deaf and pretend they knew nothing about their relationship.

 

/*/*/*/

 

He didn’t have to be a seer to know things couldn’t continue like this for long. The village had felt the tense aura as well. Clashes between him and the Senju brothers now broke out every day.  
To make it worse, he received no support from the Uchihas. His clan, down to the last member, decided that their momentary calm was more important than their future fate. Madara could reason, argue, rage… nothing helped.  
  
 _Lambs to slaughter._ He tried to feel nothing but contempt for them, but he couldn’t fool himself. He was bitter – his own blood, his family didn’t trust him at all. They were more comfortable following the rules of the village than the orders of their leader. They were willing to sacrifice anything for peace and didn’t see it was only an illusion.  
  
Soon, he would leave them. He already made the decision, just lacked a catalyst, that final push to step over the edge, to make the fatal walk out of Konoha.  
  
He wasn’t needed here. The village was better off with only one really strong shinobi, and the clans chose Senju. If he stayed, he’d be forced to sink down to the level of mediocre, where the other ninjas have got stuck for life. He’d be forced to bow his head, to acknowledge the Hokage as the one and only leader. He’d have to give up his ambitious plans of getting more powerful. He’d be expected to submit and do as he’s told. But he’d sooner die.  
  
All he needed now was one word, one misdeed and that would be the end of this false brotherhood. The question was rather _how_ he should leave, not the _when._  
  
Should he go without a word, giving silent respect to the new order, which he was unable to accept?  
  
Or rather, should he give them fire and blood, to make them regret for a life that they didn’t choose him? That they brushed him aside?  
  
He preferred the second solution more and more with each passing day. Something still held him back – maybe the bond that tied him to his clan, thin and stretched as it became over the years. Or maybe it was the memory of a warm smile on a certain tanned face. He couldn’t tell.  
Not that it mattered. Whichever was the reason, or be it both, they might hold him back today, but wouldn’t be enough tomorrow.

 

/*/*/*/

 

The Hokage was attacked. Assassins from another shinobi village sneaked in to Konoha and tried to murder their leader in his own bed.  
  
The news was all around. Everyone, from the waitress in the dango store to the elite ninjas was talking about this.  Madara’s heart skipped a beat when he heard. He always imagined that if the head of the Senju clan had to die, it would be by his hand. That someone wanted to take away his lover _and_ the chance of revenge filled him with murderous rage. Hashirama was his – they still had a final clash left. He couldn’t die before that. He wouldn’t _allow_ it.  
  
The gossip changed tone before he reached the Hokage’s building, telling how easily Hashirama deflected the mean attack. Everyone seemed to agree that they were all extremely lucky, having such a _wonderful_ leader, with a power beyond imagination.  
  
Though Madara had to grit his teeth at hearing that, he continued on. He wanted to see with his own eyes that the bloody fool was all right.  
  
He worried unnecessarily. The all wonderful Hokage seemed to survive the combat without so much as a bruise. As it turned out the best shinobi of Hidden Waterfall were nothing but three miserable, suicidal idiots, barely out of adolescence. Two died when Hashirama defeated himself. The sole survivor waited in prison for someone to make him pay for his crime. Madara was happy to volunteer for the job. He was about to turn on his heels and go to do just that, when the calm voice of his rival stopped him.  
  
“Madara-san. You’re going already?”  
  
“I was just curious if your attackers achieved anything. But I can see you’re all right, Hokage-sama. Great to know that our peace didn’t soften you yet to a degree where you can’t protect yourself against a bunch of kids. That’s very reassuring.”  
  
Hashirama just smiled at that, obviously seeing through Madara’s sarcastic words. Tobirama however, standing a few steps away deep in discussion with two other ninjas, raised his head to send him a murderous glare. Madara ignored him. Only the two of them were playing this game. No one else mattered.  
  
It seemed to take forever that day, for the last of Senju’s retinue to finally get lost. The Uchiha was boiling with rage, seeing the man’s irritating brother and wife, not to mention half of Konoha bustle around their lord and ruler, while he didn’t even shed a drop of blood.  
  
Still, he waited until it was only the two of them at last. As soon as the door of the Hokage’s office closed behind them, he grabbed the taller man’s shirt and pushed him against the wall in one violent motion. He saw the surprise and the anger at his attack in the dark, deep eyes, but ignored it. He wove his fingers into the other’s long hair and pulled his head down to press their lips together. He was damn worried for the bastard, and wanted to feel and taste him, to convince himself that indeed no harm came to his lover. Also, he was frustrated with waiting so long and enduring a horde of clowns for the sake of this man.  
  
Just as the kiss started to deepen, Hashirama gently but firmly unfolded himself from his hold.  
  
“This is not the right place or time for this, my dear. It’s bright daylight and anyone can enter.”  
  
“As if that ever bothered you before!” Madara hissed furiously. Just a few days ago, in this same office he let himself be bended over the massive oak table. Neither the daylight nor the place kept the other man back from fucking him with passion then. Hashirama followed his gaze to the aforementioned piece of furniture.  
  
“It’s different now,” he shook his head with a serious expression. “You’ve seen the upheaval. I’ve to speak to the interrogators still. I want to see the prisoner again as well. Tobirama and Mito…”  
  
“Excuses, _Hokage-sama?_ ” Madara was all but snarling. He never took rejection kindly, but there was more to it now. He waited whole day, with gritted teeth, with keeping his temper in check just to be pushed away? He had a _right_ for this –a kiss, a touch, the sweet feel of Hashirama's body. After all, someone dared to attack who was _his._ His rival, his opponent, his lover. He wanted to tear off his clothes to make sure no harm was done to him. _He_ wanted to leave new scars on his body, bites, bleeding scratches, cuts that went deep to the bone, either one and all of them. Nothing mattered just that they would make Hashirama remember him even years later. And he’d the audacity to give him a no as an answer and even to bring up his brother and damn woman?  
  
Looking into his eyes, the taller man seemed to read his mind. He shook his head slightly, as if he was being unreasonable. Madara turned on his heels without a word and stormed away before he could open his stupid mouth.

 

/*/*/*/

 

“The Hokage doesn’t accept visitors,” Tobirama stood like the immovable statue of serenity in front of the door, but his reddish eyes flashed meanly at Madara, who returned the glare from under angrily drawn eyebrows.  
  
“I’ve told you – I have to speak with him. Step aside!”

  
“And I’ve told you that he can’t be disturbed now. I’ll let him know that you looked for him, Madara-san.  Maybe you want me to pass a message on?” his voice was mocking. The Uchiha wanted to kill him on the spot and burst in to the room afterwards, but got a hold on himself. It wasn’t _this_ Senju who hold his interest, though would they ever again meet on a battlefield, he’d be happy to end his miserable life.  
  
In the end he left the damn albino and the building of the Hokage as well. Hashirama would pay for his brother’s insolence. He was above of making a scene in front of the white-haired bastard, but he wouldn’t forget his audacity.  
  
He didn’t think about where he was heading, he just let his feet carry him to the cells. One look at his face, and the guards were happy to disappear when he sent them away. The prisoner – barely more than a kid –was already looking worse for wear after the interrogations they’d put him through. After all, he attacked the leader of the village – it was no surprise he received no tenderness.  
  
Madara smiled coldly. The young Takigakure ninja didn’t really manage to hide his fear of him, though there was a defiant I’ll-stay-alive look in his green eyes that he could have appreciated under different circumstances. But the only thing that mattered now was how the damned little fool tried to take what was his. To make it worse, since the failed assassination attempt something had changed – maybe Hashirama realized what a dangerous position he was in, maybe he started to listen to his brother, wife and counsellors,  because he became colder and somehow distant.  
  
Though Madara had anticipated – and in the depth of his heart, dreaded, a catalyst that would put an end to his stay in Konoha, he now had to acknowledge to himself that he wasn’t actually prepared for it to come so soon… And for all intents and purposes it seemed that this joke of a shinobi lying in front of him on the cold stone floor of the prison cell in a pathetic heap, and his suicidal mates triggered something… something that would now soon put an end to his relationship with Hashirama and force them to become nothing more than enemies again after years of ceasefire.  
  
Maybe it wasn’t fair to blame the invader alone. He wasn’t someone important who could have forced the Hokage to change his mind… even the attack wasn’t really serious, though definitely it was a reminder that a man in Hashirama’s position could never afford to let his guard down… But Madara wasn’t in a fair mood. Someone had to pay for the changes. In the end, it will be Hashirama who’d have to answer, but until then… until then it was easier to blame and punish this mess of an assassin. If for nothing else, he’d be good for getting rid of his frustration somewhat.

 

/*/*/*/

 

“Madara-sama,”  
  
“What do you want?” he repressed a sigh as he looked into the eyes of the gathered clan members one-by-one. They were plenty enough for bringing up something serious. He’d a suspicion what that’d be.  
  
“We heard about your clash with the Hokage.”  
  
“Have you?” It’d have been more of a surprise if they hadn’t. It seemed he didn’t even leave the Hokage’s building and the news was all around the village. At least he assumed from the way the passer by-s had gotten out of his way in even more of a hurry than usual, to whisper from behind their palms something to the other fools as he strode by.  
  
Even though nothing, that wasn’t in the air for days happened. Once he’d been proud that he appeared to be the only one who could anger the always balanced Senju Hashirama to the point of snapping. Nowadays he’s just rather clinging to this thought, not getting any strength or pride out of it.  
  
Anyhow, it wasn’t a surprise at all that one of their arguments, which were more frequent than ever, would get out of hand. Although they’d stopped themselves just in time, so neither of them got seriously injured. Madara’s neck was aching where those cursed branches twined around it and Hashirama would need to nurse his burn marks for a few days… his office also needed a renovation direly, but that wasn’t reason enough for his clan to send a delegation to him. He looked blankly at the gathered men and they stared back at him grimly.  
  
“Madara-sama, things can’t continue like this,” an elder shinobi, obviously their chosen spokesman started. “After all, we’ve made peace with the Senjus and a pact with the other ninjas as well, who chose the village as their home. You have to put an end to these conflicts with the Hokage. It’s due time when you acknowledge him as the leader of Konoha. We’re all upholders of peace, and the village has chosen him.”  
  
 _You have chosen him over me, your own blood._ Madara didn’t say it out loud, not wanting them to hear his bitterness. There’d been a time, when his clan feared but respected him. When they were ready to fight by his side, to bow to his power. When they were grateful for the successes he led them to. But those times had obviously passed – by today only the fear remained.  
  
Madara was a shadow from the past, something they’d rather pretend never existed. He knew very well that he reminded them how they used to be deadly enemies with the Senjus not long ago. They thought that it was his presence that prevented the Hokage and his brother from forgetting their mutual, bloody history. Had they dared to, they’d have tried to get rid of him themselves, but they were too much of a coward to try.  
  
So they just whispered, thinking Madara didn’t know what they were saying… about Izuna, the Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan, madness, murder, the sacrifice they should make in the name of peace…  
  
“Nothing, that you need to worry about happened,” he turned away from his men. As far as he was concerned, this conversation was over. He heard them muttering angrily behind his back and he almost wished they would gather their courage and attack. At least he’d know that they still had some fire left in them. _The symbol of the Uchihas is the fan that feeds the flames inside them._ What kind of an Uchiha were they, without even embers smouldering in them?  
  
“Madara-sama,” no attack came, once again. “You’re the leader of our clan. We beg you – please act worthy of that title. We gain a bad reputation if you keep disputing the Senjus. People are gossiping as it is… about you and the Hokage. If you could just behave with dignity and calmness when it comes to him…”  
  
“What are you saying?!” his spine tensed up so much it felt like it could snap from the anger he tried to hold at bay. How _dare_ he? No one had ever the nerve to bring up his relationship with Hashirama before. It wasn’t their business. It was something that concerned only the two of them. That _belonged_ only to the two of them.  
  
“They…there’s a gossip about you and him…Madara-sama, we all know what’s going on between you. As our leader, you can’t afford…”  
  
Madara moved faster than the eye could follow. His fingers clutched the throat of the spokesman and lifted the bastard off from the ground. The others backed away in panic as his chakra started to flow around him in tangible waves.  
  
“How dare you… how dare you all?! None of you have any idea… One more damned word, one more complain, another bloody _order_ of what you think _I_ must do, and not even a heap of ash will remain of the lot of you, noting that your women could scrape off the floor to bury. _Get out of here_!”  
  
It would have been easy to close his fingers and finish off the big-mouthed fool, but in the end they were still his people, his blood. He threw away the man, who was already becoming purple in the face and watched in thunderous rage as his mates grabbed him and scattered away in fright.

 

/*/*/*/

 

 

The back, the stomach and arms of the prisoner were slippery with blood. At one point this torture stopped being about making him pay for his foolishness that he dared to attack the Hokage. It pretty much stopped being about him altogether – it was for Madara, helping him live through these days he now knew were the last ones he’d spend in Konoha.  
  
The boy was nothing more than a tool for him, an outlet for his piling anger, hate and passion. Sometimes for long seconds he stopped seeing him at all - instead of the green eyes he saw dark brown ones blinking up to him, glassy with pain. It was hard to resist these times to pull his kunai back, to touch with the tips of his fingers or run his tongue along the tanned skin and the deep wounds he craved into it.  
  
Maybe it was because of the colour of his skin, the length of his dark hair or the tallness of the young Hidden Waterfall shinobi that he still let him live. With these superficial similarities it was easier to pretend that it was Hashirama lying under him, that a moan that the other couldn’t hold back was not simply due to anguish but pleasure as well…  
  
No one tried to put an end to his cruel game. Everyone avoided him, scattering away in fright as soon as they caught a glimpse of him. Maybe his aura changed, maybe even the blind fools could feel that something was about to snap, that this mock-peace was at its end… they’d always feared him, but now he was dreaded. He was the bogey-man, a monster, a dark creature of children’s tale. It was up to the Hokage they believed, to get rid of him. To chase him away like a rabid dog, or put an end to his life…  
  
He’d hold him in his arms one last time, he decided, then leave this cursed village. The Uchiha clan dug its own grave, they would recognize it, but then it’d be too late. Hashirama… between them only one fate existed, he’d always known that. Come what may come, the Senju’s death, his own or both, it didn’t matter. Just one more time…  
  
He realized he was clutching to and caressing the deeply scarred, bleeding young man under him. He curled his lips in disgust, even while his body thrummed with dull, senseless desire. He was tempted for a second to take the boy. It would be _sweet_ to turn him on his stomach and push into his body, using his blood that flowed so freely as a lubricant. He could pretend it was Hashirama he controlled so. Would he writhe and cry or would he just lie there limply, waiting for the act to be over? He could even make him _enjoy_ it, to beg for more…  
  
The Takigakure ninja’s green eyes searched his. He saw the pain and fear in them, but also the curiosity, the way he tried to get answers. A warrior, who didn’t give up, and looked for means to survive even in the most hopeless situation. Maybe that’s why Madara let him live, not for his hair or skin tone.  
  
No, he wouldn’t rape him. Not because he’d feel guilt over it, but because he didn’t want this boy. He’d just cheat himself with a poor subtitle. He was a better man than that. Or at least proud enough not to settle anything less than the best.

  


/*/*/*/

 

 

The view was great from the Hokage’s office - even the outskirts of Konoha could be seen. Madara stood in the window and thought that this was the last time he watched the village like this. He decided – one last time with Hashirama and he’d leave.  
  
The other man watched him, leaning against the side of the table. There wasn’t any trace of his usual, calm smile. Madara loved that smile – it always held some impishness that he liked to think was meant for him alone. But right now the tanned face was serious, almost grim.  
  
“People are talking about you, Madara-san,” he broke the silence at last. “They say you’ve become unpredictable and dangerous, that even your own clan is afraid of you.”  
  
“Wasn’t it always like that, _Hokage-sama?_ That’s nothing new. I hope it’s not the only reason why you called me.”  
  
“This is not a joke. People are expecting decisions from me, and I…”  
  
“And you do what they want you to do. How noble.”

  
“Madara… don’t make my job harder.”  
  
The shorter man’s brows rose up to his forehead at the lack of honorific. He felt empty inside. The damn Senju meant more to him that he’d ever admitted to himself. But it didn’t matter now. He’d made his decision.  
  
When he realized he wouldn’t receive an answer, Hashirama pushed himself away from his desk and came to stand behind him. When was the last time they’d stood in this window? Madara had been the one standing behind the other man then. He called him a fool for letting his back touched. Now he was who stared out the window and craved the other’s touch like dying man a drink of water. It had been less than a month ago… but years could have passed, it seemed so far away.  
  
He turned slowly. Raising his chin he looked up at the man who was his desperate enemy and his only love at the same time.  He put his hand on his shoulder and slowly slid it up to the muscled neck. Hashirama let him, but his expression didn’t soften.  
  
“This was the other thing I wanted to talk about, Madara-san,” gently but firmly he grasped his wrist and pulled his hand away. “We can’t continue like this… together. I have to close, to finish… certain things. The weight of responsibility is getting heavier with each day. As a Hokage I must do what’s the best for the village. I just can’t afford to choose my personal feelings over my duty.”  
  
Madara just looked at him. A gnawing, aching pain was growing in the pit of his stomach. He had no words for this. What could he say? Should he beg? Should he reason?  Should he grab the bastard and throw him out his bloody window? On one hand he knew Hashirama well enough to be sure that if he’d made a decision, he wouldn’t change it. On the other hand he’d never sunk so low to plead for a last touch, no matter how he craved it. So he just looked at him for an endless second, to make sure he could keep the image of the other man in his mind as he was now. Next time they met, they’d be mortal enemies again. This was the last day of this foredoomed ceasefire.  
  
When the silence dragged on too long he simply turned and left the other man. He didn’t say a word and Hashirama didn’t call after him either.  
  
By the time he was out of the building the emptiness inside him was replaced by boiling hatred.

 

/*/*/*/

 

 

He let the prisoner run, though he made him pay the price of freedom. It wasn’t pity that led his hand when he cut his bonds, nor some kind of a respect for the kid, who managed to survive as his plaything, as the outlet for his feelings. No, he only did it as he knew this would be a blow to Konoha. If the poor bastard managed to get home despite his heavy wounds, he could tell his village what he saw here. Information was power. Nothing bound Madara here anymore, he didn’t need to be loyal. Konoha and he were now enemies. Only vengeance mattered.  
  
The village was engulfed in flames and blood where he passed. He killed all who happened in his way, men, women, children. His clan members who tried to stop him. No one, not the whole village together could oppose him.  
  
Maybe it was cowardice, but he didn’t wait for Hashirama to appear. Their final fight was unavoidable, and he didn’t _want to_ avoid it… but when it came to that he wanted it to be worthy of them.  
  
From now on he’d live to become even more powerful. When Hashirama would see him next, he wanted him to be awed by his might. And if fate would decide that it was Madara who had to fall… than he had to make sure the Senju remembered him always. Forever.  
  
He didn’t even slow down, he didn’t look back when he was out of Konoha and disappeared into the surrounding woods. He was Uchiha Madara. One of the strongest shinobi who ever lived. He would never regret anything.

  
  
**THE END**   
  
  
  
_There's no one to take my blame_   
_if they wanted to_   
_There's nothing to keep me sane_   
_and it's all the same to you_   
_There's nowhere to set my aim_   
_so I'm everywhere_   
_Never come near me again_   
_do you really think I need you_   
  
_Dream Theater - Space-Dye Vest_


End file.
